


Remember

by thebasement_archivist



Category: The X-Files
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 1999-09-30
Updated: 1999-09-30
Packaged: 2018-11-20 05:52:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 617
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11329854
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thebasement_archivist/pseuds/thebasement_archivist
Summary: Future memories





	Remember

**Author's Note:**

> Note from alice ttlg, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [The Basement](http://fanlore.org/wiki/The_Basement), which moved to the AO3 to ensure the stories are always available and so that authors may have complete control of their own works. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in June 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [The Basement's collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/thebasement/profile).

 

Remember by J. C. Sun

Title: Remember  
Author: J. C. Sun  
Category: VAO (m/krycek)  
Rating: PG  
Summary: Future memories.  
During partnership days. Questionably AU.  
Schmoop alert. All this academia is rotting my brain.  
Thanks be to Nonie.

* * *

You're standing there in a shaft of light; there're little golden flecks on the edge of your hair and when you turn your face up to the sun, there's a long, golden slice of sunshine running across your mouth.

I wonder if you even suspect it.

I went to see him last night, after you were asleep. Three, four in the morning--just got out of bed, went down the hall, out the door and into the sidewalk, where he was sitting in the Cadillac right across the street. Opened the door, slid in next to him, waited for him to address me like a good little underling. My mouth watered from the smell of his cigarette, and he smiled in a web of creased flesh. 

"I must say, you're handling him rather well," he'd said. 

I had responded with a crisp, "I do my job."

He'd smiled again, a little fold of rotting flesh, and then exhaled a cloud of smoke. "You do it very well."

I hadn't been sure how to respond, and he'd followed up with a smoothly patronizing, "I do expect you remember the termination instructions."

And then, I remember just looking up at the building and imagining you sprawled all across the bed, taking up all the pillows and most of the blankets so that I'd end up having to wrestle the sheets back onto the mattress (again) because you couldn't sleep on a bed and keep the sheets on it longer than fifteen minutes.

And no--

I can't save anything, Mulder, and I won't be able to remember everything. I'll be able to hang onto little snippets of things--the turn of your back, all pale blues and silvers and shadows in the moonlight, the taste of the small, soft hairs on the underside of your jaw. The expression on your face when I said that Cubism was bullshit. 

I won't be able to remember everything, but I want to take this moment and bottle it up. I want to press it between the leaves of a book, lay it away, put it high up there so I can take it out and look over it someday, so that I can go over it later and savor the turn and curves, relish the bright strong shape of your shoulders against the blue-blue sky. I want to be able to open a bottle and remember the smell of earth and trees and I want to be able to call up the precise color of the falling leaves. I want to hold this afternoon to the light, and Mu--

You're turning around now, pivoting on one heel and you're smiling, bright and happily oblivious. You're saying something low and unintelligible against the rustling of a sudden wind through the trees.

I'm going to remember it this way. I'm going to remember that you smelled like sweat and cologne and dirt and fall, and that there was a little bit of crumpled oak leaf tangled in your hair. I'm going to remember that your mouth was trying to move, that you were trying to say something to me, when I kissed you. I'm going to remember that your heels dug into the ground and you made that particular noise as I peeled back the bottom of your turtleneck to run my mouth across edge of your collar, and I'm going to remember it this way, Mulder. I'm going to remember it this way. 

.end

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